The Chryselephantine Curse
by slytherinsal
Summary: Poirot does not believe for one minute in a curse laid on a statuette and sets out to try to prevent a dastardly crime in his own inimitable style. I do not own Agatha Christie's works; alas nor do I own any works by Chiparus. Rated for someone's intent


**The Chryselephantine Curse**

"Oh Moosoo Pwaaro, please may I speak with you? They say you are interested in the ootray"

The girl's voice was common but she was obviously making an effort with her pronunciation, which disposed Poirot to her favourably in the first instance, being used to being addressed as anything up to and including 'Parrot' by members of this girl's obvious class. The use of the word outré was also interesting.

The other thing that predisposed him to her favour was her trim figure and evident attempt, within her budget, to be chic and her ability to manage to be so without falling prey to the temptation to overdo the decorative effects on her summer frock or hat.

He smiled.

He could do with a distraction; he had been attending at the insistence of an old friend a matinee that had bored him utterly.

"Mais oui, Mademoiselle; will you ascend with me to my apartment? I assure you my confidential secretary Miss Lemon is there to bear you chaperonage."

"You are kind to think of that, Moosoo; it ain't – isn't – what many gents would consider" said the girl, readily accompanying Poirot up in the lift of his modern apartment.

He called to Miss Lemon to bring tea and smiled the girl to a seat on the sofa.

"And now" he said "You will tell papa Poirot what is your name, and the trouble that is outré. And, for my personal curiosity where you have heard such a word."

"My name is Hilda Brown, sir" said the girl "And I'm trying to better myself by learning to speak properly in English and to speak a little French too; my mistress used sometimes to go to France so I've heard how people say things but it's a couple of years now since she was well enough; she had rheumatic fever you see, and her heart is bad."

"And it is concerning your mistress that you are worried?"

"Yes sir; her name is Mrs Cornelia Lavingham; she's a widow. Her husband died in the war, and all the family she has in the world are a couple of nephews. Her brother's boys, Arthur and Harry Pucell. Mr Harry, he's always worried her because he is in with a wild lot, and he dropped out of University – cooh wouldn't I work like stink if I ever had the CHANCE to go to university so help me I would – and Mr Arthur, what's kind and attentive; and now she don't travel no – ANY – more, he brings her presents. And that's what the point is, Moosoo Pwaaro, that one of the presents might be cursed if you believe that sort of thing; but oh sir! I have this fear that Mr Harry heard the story Mr Arthur told as a joke and might be trying to kill my mistress with fear!"

"Come, this is getting very intriguing" said Poirot. "Ah, tea; thank you Miss Lemon. Be so good as to find out what you may of a Mrs Cornelia Lavingham and her nephews Harry and Arthur Pucell."

"Yes M. Poirot" said Miss Lemon, going to do as she was bid with her usual efficiency and lack of curiosity. Poirot thought contentedly how lucky he was to have such an excellent machine in Miss Lemon who might be relied upon to do exactly as she was asked without any deviation or asking for reasons or clarification.

Hilda sipped her tea.

"So, tell me about this present that Mr Arthur had brought and why you think it might be being made to seem cursed" said Poirot.

"Well, sir, it's a – a Chryselephantine statuette" Hilda pronounced it very carefully "A dancer; Mrs Lavingham collects such things, not necessarily with ivory on, but statuettes of dancers; she used to dance so much when she was young, and she used to go to the ballet a lot too, and since she's been ill she likes to have images of young girls doing active things, specially dancing" she glanced at Poirot to see if he understood that; and saw the smile that lifted his odd-looking moustache as he nodded and she carried on, reassured. "So she had bronzes; and she don't – doesn't – mind if it's spelter so long as it is lively. She doesn't mind paying for expensive ones, but it has to have a- a certain LOOK if you understand me."

"Mais oui, ma petite, I understand perfectly" said Poirot "Me, I have the same thought; a decoration it must be quite in keeping with the mood. I who like order and method have as you may see on my mantelshelf a piece by Chiparus of a line of girls dancing; and while their costumes do not precisely match, which is a deplorable state of affairs, their poses as you can see are perfectly identical."

"Oh, I think that is the name on the base of my mistress' statuette" said Hilda "C-H-I-P-A-R-U-S. would that be right?"

"Yes indeed, mademoiselle; quite correct" said Poirot "A popular artist because he is perhaps the best; he is a Romanian by birth but he works much in France. He is famous for his dancers and their lively poses."

"Oh it is lively!" said Hilda "She is up on one toe, and one arm is up and the other down and she is – or was – holding torches."

"Was?" said Poirot sharply.

"Yes sir; may I tell you the legend Mr Arthur told Mrs Lavingham? I – I think it will make all clearer."

Poirot nodded.

"Yes; you must tell me all that seems relevant; start from when he gave it to her."

"Yes sir" Hilda nodded. "He brought it wrapped up in tissue paper; told her that he had got it from a man who believed that the curse attached to it really worked; he laughed and said that it was pure nonsense of course. My mistress had unwrapped it by then and was exclaiming over how exquisite the piece is; it's about fourteen inches tall, sir, with the base which is a reddish marble or some such; my mistress called it Brescia."

"Yes; it is a region of Italy from which marble is quarried: one of the colours to be obtained is red" said Poirot.

"Oh I see" said Hilda "Well my mistress asked what curse was this; and Mr Arthur told her the story. He found it funny" she said "It was supposed that the ivory in the face and hands came from an elephant who was shot for his tusks who happened to be by way of being a pet of some African Witch Doctor; I think them sorts of people are supposed to do evil magic" she added.

"Enfin, it is against the will of Le Bon Dieu" said Poirot who was staunch in his beliefs.

"Well, this Witch Doctor is said to have cursed the man who took the ivory that he, and anyone who used or owned the ivory would fail to prosper and would die" said Hilda "which I suppose is the sort of wish anyone might make if their favourite pet had been killed because in the heat of the moment and grief you wouldn't be feeling so charitable. But it seems the hunter was dead within the year, and the man who carved the ivory for the sculptor died screaming and the man who sold it to Mr Arthur said that the statue was changing until he resolved to get rid of it, a little at a time, the face darkening and becoming an elephant. And that it was threatening in other ways. And Mr Arthur said with a laugh that I anyone knew the truth it was that the elephants came out of a gin bottle; and my mistress laughed and agreed with him."

"Sacre! Well there is one untruth in that" said Poirot "Because Chiparus does his own ivory carving; and he is entirely healthy; indeed he has had pieces featured in the Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes not long ago. So that at least is entirely wrong!"

"Mrs Lavingham does not know anything about him you see" said Hilda "She knows what she likes, but she is not interested in the artist."

"Ah yes; I perceive her in my thoughts" said Poirot "In many ways she is the true connoisseur; she buys because she likes something not because it is valuable or because it is fashionable. Yet this statuette must have cost a very great deal; Mr. Arthur is wealthy?"

"Oh no sir" said Hilda "But the previous owner had dropped it in his shock at what he thought he saw; and the hand was broken and had been clumsily mended, so he had it for a price he could afford. Of course in a way, Mrs Lavingham paid for it; because she makes an allowance to both her nephews since their father went through his own fortune and shot himself; Mr. Harry is feckless like his father, she says."

"Indeed! Bien entendu" said Poirot. "Now you have suggested that this statuette is changing?"

"Yes sir; and I can show you photos to prove it" said Hilda "Mrs Lavingham likes me to photograph her figurines; she bought me a box Brownie to take photos front and back, in case they are stolen so she can prove they are hers and for the police to recognize."

"A sensible precaution" approved Poirot "And you have brought the photos?"

"Yes sir; and the ones I took this morning" said Hilda "It may seem a waste to develop and print them when I have taken only four photos and there are eight pictures on the roll but I thought it important and I told the chemist that I did not care that four were blank. I paid out of my wages, sir, in case my suspicions were unfounded. Here is Mrs Lavingham's album of her figurines, which she likes to have to look at too if she is confined to bed" and she passed over a small album. The photographs within were normal contact prints of three and a quarter inches by two and a quarter; and showed a number of lively poses.

"Here is the figurine and see I have done a close up of the broken arm" said Hilda "It would be a distinctive feature."

"Indeed" said Poirot "You are to be congratulated on your accomplishments."

Hilda blushed.

"It is only a matter of being methodical" she said "Kodak's box Brownie had nothing to go wrong; just the lever to pull out for close pictures, which I used on most of the figurines. It permits one to get quite close. I do not know enough to do my own developing; and Mrs Lavingham does not wish me to mess around with hypo anyway, she says it would smell too much."

"It is unpleasant" said Poirot wrinkling his nose "And if there is a competent chemist unnecessary for you to endure it and stain your fingers. This is a very pleasing statuette; a shame about the damage. You have other photographs though?"

"Yes sir" said Hilda and extracted four photographs from her handbag.

Poirot started.

"Mon Dieu!" he said "But this is of the most disturbing!"

"Yes Moosoo Pwaaro" said Hilda. "So I thought. And I had read about you in the newspaper and so I thought I would come and talk to you; but I don't get much wages so I don't know as how I can pay you to find out what's going on; but if you could advise me perhaps I could afford that."

"Mamdemoiselle, there are times when I waive a fee for a case of the most bizarre and interesting" said Poirot. "The change to the hand, that is now holding not a torch but a knife and the face….. it might not be apparent straight away but when one compares one photograph with the other, the lengthening of the nose, the enlargement of the ears, a frown to the forehead, all these show up clearly; and the shade…. Is the statuette indeed darker or is it that the photograph is not fully exposed?"

"It is darker sir; I should have placed it beside another piece of ivory for comparison; I beg your pardon for the oversight" said Hilda.

"No-no-no! do not think of it; you have thought of it now, and if there are future changes we shall see….. I should like to see this statuette for myself; and your employer! How is this possible without alarming her?"

Hilda looked hopeful.

"Perhaps you might say that you are a collector yourself?" she said. "As a hobby? She will know your name of course; or perhaps that you are interested in items with curses on them?"

"Eh bien, that I am interested in statuettes will do well enough" said Poirot "Let us not dwell her mind upon curses; she is a sick woman. Tell me, ma petite, is it possible that the horror of a changing statue might make her heart condition bad enough to kill her? And does she yet know of the changes?"

"I think that fear could well put a strain on her heart that is enough to kill her" said Hilda frankly "And I have made sure she has not seen it; I was busy dusting it when she came into the parlour and she usually sleeps while I have my afternoon off. If you would be kind enough to write to her I can slip it in as though it came by messenger; and if need be I shall break the horrid thing, if she docks my wages for a year for it, because I ain't going to have my kind lady frightened into her grave, not half I ain't!" and she burst into tears.

Poirot said all that was proper and soothing; and feeling better for a cry and the thought that all was now in the hands of the man Hilda declared was the cleverest man in Europe – Poirot did not deprecate the compliment – she withdrew feeling much happier bearing with her a request from M. Poirot that he might visit a fellow collector to examine her excellent figurines since he believed that she was in possession of a dancer he would like to see at close quarters.

As he had seen the photographic collection, Poirot described minutely an entirely different dancer as being the one in which he was most interested; he might see the other then without drawing the lady's attention to it and any attendant changes it might have.

oOoOo

Hilda showed Poirot into the parlour at Mrs Lavingham's modern suburban semidetached home. He had on his arrival approved the neat front garden with ordered bedding plants that was almost identical to several other gardens in the row, being served by the same conservative gardener; and nodded further approval at the modern lines of the bay window that came forward in a smooth curve and continued with just a short brick break as the straight line of its front face went on to be contiguous with the window of the house next door that was identical but mirrored. It was the shape of the age.

Mrs Lavingham was surprisingly young looking if one discounted the pain lines on her forehead and the little creases at the top of her nose and patience lines by her mouth that spoke of the last two years of pain that was never quite absent; but her light brown hair was dressed carefully and her outfit was smart rather than fashionable as befitted a well to do widow in her forties. Miss Lemon had discovered that she was forty two, and had been three years older than her husband; and that she had also done much of the rearing of Harry and Arthur Pucell during their holidays from boarding school and indeed had taken on the task of caring for them in her brother's home until her marriage in 1910 to her brother's friend; her sister-in-law having died birthing Arthur, the younger of the two. It appeared she stood closer to being a mother to them than an aunt. She had never had any children of her own though she had been married some five years before her husband's death; and by that time both boys were away at boarding school, a decision having been made by his father to send seven-year-old Arthur to join his brother when Mrs Lavingham got married.

It had not been long after that, Miss Lemon had discovered, that Mr Pucell had discovered the extent of his losses and had killed himself.

If ever Arthur had needed substitute parents it had been then, thought Poirot, who heartily disapproved of sending small children to boarding school.

"M'sieur Poirot! Good of you to come!" said Mrs Lavingham in what attempted to be a hearty voice and fell a few false notes short "It's good to meet a fellow connoisseur; your hobby that takes your mind of detecting is it?"

Poirot smiled; the warmth in it was partly for Hilda repeating her mistress' more practised pronunciation of his name under her breath.

"There is so much that is squalid in the field of crime; to contemplate beauty is an antidote to that, no?" he said, a trifle ambiguously.

"Indeed!" said Mrs Lavingham "Hilda, the statuette that M'sieur Poirot wrote to me about – pass it to him, please, so he may see it to better advantage!"

"Ah, if you permit, Madame, I will rather go and examine in situ the delights of your collection" said Poirot "Rather than make Mademoiselle Hilda feel nervous in passing such delicate pieces. You have them displayed to such advantage – no do not disturb yourself, I pray!" as she was wondering whether to rise to explain her collection to him. "Do you have many other family members who appreciate such things?"

"Only my two nephews, M'sieur" said Mrs Lavingham. "Harry laughs at them and says that live dancers interest him more; but he does say that if they please me it's none of his business. Harry is so gay but… Arthur is so much steadier; he admires my collection. Indeed he bought me one the other day; point it out, will you, Hilda?"

Hilda indicated the piece; and the changes wrought seen close up and on the statuette not merely a photograph brought a slight frown to Poirot's face. Keeping his body between the statuette and Mrs Lavington he gently pulled the almost grotesque head; and found it came away readily.

"But Madame! He said "This statuette, it has sustained damage!"

"Yes; the arm is damaged" said Mrs Lavinham "I asked Arthur if he might not be able to mend it – he is so good with his hands – but he said that it was beyond him to deal with ivory."

"A shame" said Poirot. "It is an impertinence that a stranger should offer – but I have done some work myself; might I perhaps take this piece and see if I might not restore her to perfection? A dancer with a broken arm; how may she be happy, I ask myself?"

"Why, M'sieur Poirot, nobody could doubt YOUR integrity" said Mrs Lavingham. "If you believe you can do it…. it is a shame, but dear Arthur thinks that one reason he could afford it was the damage – it was dropped by the previous owner who had become convinced that there was a curse upon it!"

"Extraordinary" murmured Poirot with an inward shudder. "it is good, Madame, that you are not fanciful!"

"Well I am not as a general thing" said the widow "Though I have been a little more nervous and foolish since my illness; such horrid dreams I had while I was unwell! Things, familiar things would change shape and size; it is but the way of fever dreams but I start at oddly shaped shadows at times even now, do I not, Hilda?"

"Yes madam" said Hilda "But you'll be your old self again!" she added loyally.

"Hilda is a tower of strength to me" said Mrs Lavingham.

Poirot ran over in his own mind the double bluff and wondered whether anyone were bold enough to try to fool HIM; whether an uneducated but sharp London girl might think herself smart enough to pull the wool over his eyes.

"Are your nephews close to, in case you need them?" he asked.

"Oh I never know where Harry is" said Mrs Lavingham "Sometimes he pops up quite unexpectedly with a bunch of flowers that I often think he has stolen from some park, and usually wanting either money or a day or two lying low from some low friend of his. Arthur has a pied-a-terre just a few stops along the line near where he works; he's a clerk in Leadenhall St so Liverpool Street station does him perfectly. He stays here at the weekends. So attentive!"

"So he has his own key for if you are too ill and Hilda is out?" said Poirot making a great business of examining another statuette while Hilda wrapped the offending one.

"Oh both boys do" said Mrs Lavingham "This is their home after all; it may not seem as much a home as the old house, but it is more convenient to keep clean. And they were both very understanding about selling up."

"Vraiment?" said Poirot. "Thank you Hilda: you have wrapped that excellently. I am so pleased to see such an excellent collection; but you are tired, Madame Lavingham and I must not impose any more on your time."

She gave a rather forced gay little laugh.

"Oh will you not take tea?"

"Madame, an old man knows when he has outstayed his welcome" said Poirot "I shall return your statuette soon; perhaps I may telephone to arrange a good time when I have effected the repairs?"

"Thank you!" said Mrs Lavingham "You are too kind!"

oOoOo

"Tomorrow it is Thursday" said Poirot to Hilda "Therefore you must let me into the house tonight to wait and see if anyone comes."

"Oh sir, do you think anyone will?" said Hilda.

"I think that certain changes will be wrought before Saturday" said Poirot "And we have no time to lose."

oOoOo

The thin pencil beam of light found its way with a sureness of familiarity across the parlour heading for where the statuette was displayed.

"It's not there, Mr Arthur Pucell" said Poirot calmly.

The pencil beam jerked convulsively.

"Dear God, who are you?" said a voice that fought not to shake.

"I am Poirot" said Poirot.

Breath hissed in between clenched teeth.

"Aunt Agnes guessed?" said Pucell "Oh God!"

"No, Mr Pucell; HILDA guessed" said Poirot. "Or rather, she guessed that the statuette was being tampered with. The rest? It was solid deduction. How your father packed you off to school tearing you from the stable home, that your aunt broke up by getting married, as your childish self saw it; and then killed himself. How the old childhood home, last symbol of stability, was sold because your aunt was too ill to keep it up; and how despite Harry's bad habits and expensive needs she would always fund him and you feared your inheritance dwindling. She might have died of the rheumatic fever; you reasoned that she might die at any time, perhaps sooner would be better than later."

"You – you are the very DEVIL to know it all!" Arthur whispered.

"I prefer to think that I do the work of Le Bon Dieu" said Poirot with some complacency. "I have the statuette; and you will bring to me the original face and arm and repair the broken arm also as you have such clever fingers; and you will bring me also the four stages of carved changes to make the beautiful dancer into an elephant of ebony. And furthermore you will never ever discuss this with your aunt."

Arthur stared open mouthed.

"You - you are going to let me go?"

"Mr Pucell, to arrest you would only hurt your aunt and perhaps bring about that unfortunate heart attack. This I am desirous of avoiding" said Poirot. "But I do warn you that if your aunt should happen to die, I will be looking most deeply into the circumstances. Take this as a grim warning of what childhood resentment and greed have led you to; reflect, and live with yourself."

Arthur Pucell stared, horror on his rather weak face.

"It was awful at school" he whispered "Harry was hearty, a sportsman; you have no idea what I suffered!"

"I pity you sincerely" said Poirot "But that was not the innocent aunt's doing. Perhaps your father was wrong to send you away; I suspect he meant to spare you his last months of despair as he tried to salvage his fortune. But you surely, as an adult, do not grudge the marital bliss to your aunt who had given up her girlhood to care for you? It is time for you to leave the past behind you; and take responsibility for your actions. You will punish yourself every time you look into the eyes of your aunt, filled with love for you and pride in you, the look I saw when she spoke of you to me. Eh bien; you may well weep" as Arthur Pucell gave a sob and buried his face in his hands. "But you will smile and be genial as always to her; and if it is money you desire for some project, eh bien, if she does not grudge it to your brother, do you really think she will grudge it to you if you ask?"

"She would ask what it is for" said Arthur dully "And it is just that I would like a better lifestyle."

"Then tell her so" said Poirot. "I do not think she will grudge it; she is one who has let you make your own way for the sake of your pride! You are a very foolish young man; but the world is full of them and that will never change. Now go; and bring to me all that I have asked during your midday break tomorrow."

Arthur Pucell stumbled out of the house; and Poirot let himself out quietly behind him satisfied that the deadlock would do its work as he shut the door.

oOoOo

"Why, M'sieur Poirot, it is an exquisite piece of work!" cried Mrs Lavingham as she unwrapped the mended statuette; Arthur had done his best, perhaps to make amends.

"It is nothing" said Poirot modestly. "It deserves pride of place in your collection."

"Yes, Arthur has not yet noticed it has been gone; poor boy he works so hard, he is looking quite ill" said Mrs Lavingham.

"Indeed? Perhaps it is expensive having to live in the city during the week" said Poirot. It might not be in his code to reward a would-be murderer; but it was better to keep Mrs Lavingham alive by removing temptation.

It would, after all, only serve to reduce the young man's inheritance in the long run and would work out therefore evenly. He had no intention of ever telling Mr Pucell that to arrest him for attempted murder was fairly futile even with the evidence of the man's doubtless excellent workshop and the carved pieces to attest to his villainy and the man's knowledge of his aunt's weak heart. Had he succeeded…. Then the premeditation could be shown. But a failed attempt was no crime in law. And Poirot rather thought that Arthur Pucell would suffer for his crimes having been made to face up to what had been in some ways little more than a fantasy, a resentful schoolboy's trick with potentially deadly consequences.

oOoOo

"Did you find out who did it? will Mr Harry go to jail?" whispered Hilda on the doorstep.

Poirot beamed at her.

"But no, mademoiselle; it was not Mr Harry at all, but an entirely different agency!" he said "I have made sure that your mistress is safe now; and if I were you I should ask Mr Harry if his attentions are honourable before you permit him to kiss you."

"Oh M'soor Pwaaro!" cried Hilda "Do you know everything?"

"There is very little that papa Poirot does not know" said Poirot, tipping his hat to her and marching jauntily on his way.

So often the knowledge was in retrospect and meant a death; to avert a death, ah THAT was a prescience rarely given to any man. He was satisfied.


End file.
